Hamlet 2 could have been a very funny movie if screenwriters Pam Brady and Andrew Fleming had shown a little restraint in the use of sexually profane language… and Dana Marchz’s portrayal of Jesus Christ. While I do not consider myself a rabid religious fundamentalist, I do take exception with the way Jesus’s name and person are so slandered by this movie. It’s as if Brady and Fleming deliberately put a chip on their shoulders so that they could call out the religious right, hoping for publicity. As the credits rolled, my final thought was, “is this the future of movie making?”

As soon as Anna Faris gets in front of the camera, it seems she is immediately anointed Queen of the Ditzes. That persona worked well for Faris in the goofball spoofs that made up the Scary Movie series, and it even served her nicely as a supporting player in the Oscar-winning Lost in Translation; but like Will Ferrell’s shtick, it is getting very old very quickly. The House Bunny is far less entertaining and creative than last year’s Sydney White; but to be fair, White did have a classic fairytale to start from. Even with a talented young cast, director Fred Wolf can’t save this movie from feeling as ditzy as its main character. It’s one of those films in which I leave the theater feeling that my intelligence declined a bit while I sat in the dark.

“We’re inviting total insanity into our house!” ejaculates the lovelorn, broke, and creatively blocked Wilson early on In Search Of A Midnight Kiss. As it turns out, he’s mostly right, as this mostly autobiographical tale of L.A. angst plays out like a cross between Barfly, Something Wild, and a Kevin Smith film. And with that setup, be warned that watching this movie is itself something akin to inviting insanity into your presence. Early on, I was thinking: So… this is the kind of film where women find porn fantasy flattering, eh? Well, yes; and no. Wilson and Viv are a lot like people I’ve both known and been—and loved. And Holdridge’s film holds out hope for their maturity and happiness.

There’s a lot of authenticity to Deal… and it may indeed be the best poker film since Rounders—but that might not be saying a lot. This time out, though, what we’re really getting is The Color of Money repackaged for the world of Texas Hold ’Em. The Paul Newman role is filled by Burt Reynolds (playing the part of Tommy Vinson), and the young buck played by Tom Cruise in Martin Scorsese’s billiards classic is this time named Alex, and he’s played by Bret Harrison. (For those keeping score, you can kind of sense how things might go awry with this project.) The celebrity appearances are rote at best, and the film’s finale is scripted, for dramatic effect, to deny Hold ’Em fans the thing that really makes the game fascinating: getting to see the players’ hole cards. I’m afraid that I’m making this sound like a bad movie—which it is not. It’s just that’s it’s not particularly gripping.

The subject of America the Beautiful is women—and our culture’s unhealthy obsession with their physical appearance. As the film progresses, Roberts hits on all the subjects you might imagine he would: the fashion industry, Madison Avenue, anorexia and bulimia, sexism, Hollywood, patriarchalism, MTV, parenting, plastic surgery, and peer pressure. But the thread that effectively and entertainingly ties all these subjects together is how Roberts follows the career of one hopeful supermodel through the American morass of image, materialism, and careerism. I’m hesitant to say much beyond that. This is truly one of those films that’s more effective the less you know about it—but if you choose to take my recommendation and invest (yes invest) your eight or ten bucks in seeing this film, you’ll probably never think quite the same way about the very real women in your life.

“The line that I sort of walk,” says Mike Nawrocki, the 3-2-1 Penguins! spokesman for Big Idea, “is wanting to make sure that the stories that we tell have biblically-grounded messages in them, so they can be a resource for their parents to pass values along to their kids. That’s at the core. And then we’ve got to be really funny, really entertaining, and have really great music. And then just hope that people are going to want to see them. And keep enabling us to keep doing that—with Veggietales, and with 3-2-1 Penguins! It’s a tricky thing. Entertainment itself is a very tricky business, and then when you add the ministry aspect to it—the faith aspect—it gets even trickier.” Look for Save the Planets! on DVD come September 2.

With an interesting and quirky story and a top notch cast, does Henry Poole Is Here manage to deliver the goods? The answer I think is decidedly maybe… depending on the individual moviegoer. Issues of religion and faith can be polarizing. Some folks will likely think this film is too religious while others will dislike it because it’s not religious enough. I can’t tell you which end of the spectrum you might fall on. What I can tell you is that this is a film that doesn’t try to preach to you, or at you. It doesn’t try to sell you a particular set of beliefs or tell you what you should or shouldn’t feel. It uses religious themes as a springboard to go deeper and take look at the relationships between people. In the end, it seems to ask the question “Does it matter if it’s really a miracle as long as lives experience positive change?” And to its credit, the film leaves the answer up to you. I liked it; you might like it, too.

this is one of those rare instances—something like Shine or Pollock—where, in the presence of such self- and art-absorbed personalities, we manage to think: What a schmuck… but what a great, captivating, and creative schmuck! And aren’t we grateful for such schmuckitude! Documentarian James Marsh finds a great foil for his camera in Petit, who is an always-on performer and natural raconteur. Marsh then skillfully interweaves mobile interviews with Petit (and others) with archival footage, home movie footage, and “reenactments” to keep the tone light and entertaining. By the time we arrive at the literally breathtaking culmination of Petit’s signature stunt—the outcome of which is no surprise, by the way, in case you were wondering, as Petit is still alive, and since the media headlines and photos give away the climax—we don’t merely understand what Petit and his crew accomplished; we also get the feeling that we really comprehend the man behind the stunt. Sadly. But really, why should I tire so easily of pompous artists? I would just be little more enthusiastic about the film if Marsh’s reenactments weren’t so dippy.

Frozen River is one of the best movies in recent years to address the issue of situational ethics, or morality-by-circumstance. However, writer and director Courtney Hunt has included a strange twist on that theme that many critics are missing. Ray is so fixated on a new double-wide trailer that she has chosen to make that the priority in her life and really is asking her children to suffer for the sake of her goal also. A mother that is truly concerned about putting food in her children’s mouths doesn’t watch them eat popcorn for breakfast while $4,000 is sitting outside in the car—and while she is still chain-smoking cigarettes. The case for situational ethics, in Ray’s situation, just doesn’t ring true. It’s hard to feel sorry for anyone but the children. While it is difficult to accept Ray as a heroine, Hunt does allow some redemption for her in the end. Hunt even divides her story well, leaving an edge of dissatisfaction since Ray’s and Lila’s fates differ—masterful! Ray only smiles once in the entire movie, and that is when Ricky wakes her up on the morning the half of the house is about to be delivered… before life gets even more complicated and falls apart.

I don’t want to give you the impression that I find no redeeming value in Tropic Thunder. It’s fun to spot the many references to classic war films like Saving Private Ryan—a rare moment in which I did burst into laughter—and Platoon. There’s also a delightful Indiana Jones moment for Jack Black’s heroin-addict character. I also enjoyed some of the film’s The Player-like satire; but most of the moments that generated laughter from the promotional screening audience resulted from the gross-out gags and excessive cursing. Maybe I’ve just become inoculated to that approach after having seen so many films that thrive on that kind of humor. Still, maybe where Tropic Thunder goes wrong is its failure to create characters to care about. I didn’t give a darn whether Stiller and company got out of the jungle alive or not. Cruel? Maybe. But hey, this is Hollywood.